


Written On Paper

by JustGalactic



Category: Sanders Sides, Thomas Sanders
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Gen, Logan centric, Logan-centric, You could read any of the ships as romantic if u want, trigger warning: blood, trigger warning: brief talk of implied/referenced self harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-29
Updated: 2018-07-05
Packaged: 2019-05-15 05:21:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 7,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14784308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustGalactic/pseuds/JustGalactic
Summary: Logan is in charge of facts. They all come to him on small pieces of paper. Sometimes, they fly in on paper airplanes. The paper planes taunt him, and paper storms and paper avalanches make him worry for the other sides.Or:Idioms are real and incredibly distressing





	1. It Goes Over His Head

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To go over your head
> 
> (idiomatic) More complex or confusing than one can understand; beyond one's comprehension.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this all started from the phrase "it went over his head" and then my brain Did This...hopefully y'all like it! <3

Thoughts whizzed around Logan's room, day after day. His job was cataloging them, organizing them, deciding what to keep, and deciding what to forget. The memories usually went to Patton's room, and Logan dealt with cold, hard facts. That was just the way he liked it.

The facts would come in, some raining in from the ceiling, some rolling in through his door, and others simply appearing out of thin air. They were written on small, balled up pieces of paper.

When Thomas was little, Logan ignored the paper planes that flew close to the ceiling, too high for him to reach. He didn't know what they were, and he didn't care. As Thomas grew up, the paper planes became increasingly rare.

One day though, when Thomas was at a banquet, his brain was in overdrive. Virgil hated the amount of new people, Patton was urging Thomas to talk to someone, and Roman was just gushing over the high-class food and decor surrounding them. Logan retreated to his room, not wanting to be in the way, but still putting ideas in Thomas’ head every now and then.

As Thomas overheard the conversations around him, the paper balls were appearing all around Logan. He knew that there wasn't much useful information in any of them, and discarded the majority without bothering to give them a second look.

Then, there was a paper plane. Logan hadn't seen one in years, but he'd always wondered what they were. It was too high for him to reach, so he stood on top of his chair, stretching up his arms and standing on his toes, trying to wrap his fingers around it.

It almost seemed as if the ceiling was growing taller just so that the plane could escape Logan's grasp. As it moved closer to his open window, Logan jumped for it, narrowly missing it as it flew away, and he crashed to the floor.

Sitting up, Logan rubbed his arm that he'd hit during his fall, frowning as the paper plane disappeared from sight. Then, he heard a taunting laugh from his doorway. Without having to look, he knew who was standing there.

“What do you want, Deceit?” Deceit just laughed again.

“What were you trying to do?” He hissed, a bemused smile on his lips. Logan frowned and stayed silent, not wanting to admit that he'd been chasing after a paper plane. As the cold silence settled in, another paper plane flew overhead. Logan made a half-hearted attempt to snatch it out of the air. When he failed, Deceit chuckled. “Keep trying to grab those planes, Logan. It'll definitely work one of these days.”

“Just...go,” Logan sighed. “Unless you have any useful information for me, just leave.”

“Okay. Before I leave, I just want you to know that I have no idea what those paper planes are,” Deceit grinned, and Logan snarled at him. “Anyway, talk to you later…” He started to turn on his heels.

“Wait!” Logan said, sounding a bit more desperate than he'd meant to sound. Deceit turned back around, a proud smirk on his face. “What...what are the planes?”

“Oh, because I'd totally just tell you that,” he scoffed. Logan glared at him, but Deceit stayed silent. A paper ball fell from the ceiling, and Deceit easily caught it in a yellow gloved hand. “What are these?” He asked, throwing it at Logan’s face.

Deceit had become an expert at communicating in mostly questions. Because questions weren’t technically a truth or a lie, it made talking to the other sides a bit easier. He had also become an expert in managing to convey the most condescending tone possible through a seemingly innocent question.

Logan rolled his eyes and unfolded the paper, reading it over as he answered.

“Facts. They're facts.” It was a meaningless, unimportant statement. Logan threw it in the trash can.

“How do they get here?”

“Well, I assume that Thomas hears or sees them, processes them, and they are sent to me so I can cataloge and use the data,” Logan replied, proud of his succinct response.

“Now, why would there be facts that you can't access? What step along the process turns them into, well…” Deceit smirked as yet another paper plane flew over their heads. “...those?”

“Well…” Logan paused. “Possibly, it's data that Thomas himself is incapable of processing for one reason or another. The planes could be facts Thomas doesn't understand,” Logan said, slowly realizing what exactly they were.

“Huh, whose job would it be to make sure that Thomas understands things?” Deceit asked. Logan knew the answer, but he stared at the ground, not wanting to give Deceit the pride of answering.

At the banquet, a man began giving a speech, and because of Thomas’ mounting anxiety and lack of focus, he didn't absorb much of the information.

A fleet of paper planes soared into Logan's room. Logan stared at them helplessly.

“The others would never be disappointed in you for failing to do your job...losing all this information,” Deceit crooned.

“I am doing my job,” he insisted. “I-I...Thomas doesn't need to know everything.” Logan was trying to convince himself more than Deceit. It was now practically storming planes. Trying to ignore the tears stinging at his eyes, Logan made futile attempts to snatch them from the air.

“Keep trying, Logan. You'll catch them one of these days.” And with that, Deceit vanished, leaving Logan, paper plane after paper plane soaring right over his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check me out on Tumblr @galacticallynonbinary


	2. Brainstorming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> brain·storm  
> ˈbrānˌstôrm
> 
> noun
> 
> 1\. a discussion to produce ideas and ways of solving problems.

Logan was quietly sitting on his bed, doing a sudoku puzzle to wind down before he went to sleep, when a small piece of paper landed on top of his head. He picked it up, expecting to see a fact Thomas had learned. He opened it, and instead of neat, typed words, there were two words in big, looping script.

_“Video Ideas:”_

Roman was brainstorming. Usually, he'd tell Logan, and the two would be together in Roman's room, creating a list of ideas. By the time Logan got back to his room, most of the brain storm would have drained away, leaving only the best ideas. Logan frowned, more than a little hurt that Roman had decided to brainstorm without him.

The papers started to fall. Logan wasn't usually in his room during a brainstorm, and it was intriguing to experience, at least for a few moments. The paper fell, lighter than raindrops, but quicker than snowflakes. They landed everywhere, on Logan's bed, in his hands, on the floor…

He started to read the ones near him. They said things like “video games,” “fashion,” and “cosplay.” The bright red ink started to run, and as more paper fell, Roman's handwriting was messier and messier.

They were coming so quickly now, and Logan felt a stinging sensation on his cheek. He reached up a finger and wiped it across his cheek. When he pulled his hand away, there was a bright red stain on his fingertips.

“Paper cut,” he mused, watching the storm pick up. The words were messier, more jumbled. He glanced at the ones he’d read earlier; they all now had big, fat x’s over the words. Scribbles and lines blotted out Roman's ideas. As the papers rained down, Logan felt paper cuts form on his arms, his legs, more on his face...enough was enough.

Trying to dodge the paper, Logan left his room and tried to rise up into Roman's. No matter how hard he tried, he was stuck in the hallway.

“Darn. It's locked,” Logan sighed, trying to ignore the troubling implications of Roman locking the others out of his room. Logan ran up to the red and gold door, knocking three times, firm and precise. He could hear the scratching of pen pause, for just a moment. “Open up, please.”

“L-Logan?” Came Roman's hesitant voice. The fear in his tone was possibly the scariest thing Logan had ever witnessed.

“Yes. Please open up. I have a few...things I'd like to discuss.” Logan heard the shuffling of feet across carpet, and then the door slowly swung open to reveal a tired Roman with tears staining his cheeks.

“You were crying,” Logan said, unable to hide his shock. Roman tried to deny it, but no words left his mouth. “You were also brainstorming without me.”

“How'd you...right, your room,” Roman sighed. Then, he noticed the red lines littering Logan's body. “Oh, God, are those paper cuts?” He ran both hands through his hair. “I'm so, so, sorry, I completely forgot, I messed up, please forgive me I-”

Logan grabbed Roman's arms, stopping him.

“They're paper cuts. They'll heal. I'm more worried about you.” Roman couldn't hide the small smile that dashed across his face when Logan, stoic, emotionless Logan, admitted he was worried about him.

“I'm sorry Logan.” Roman took a deep breath. “I didn't want to bother you because it was so late, but I've been having awful writer’s block. I thought that maybe listing a bunch of ideas would help get me through it but,” he gestured helplessly to the pile of crumbled and scribbled out papers behind him.

Logan pushed past Roman into the fanciful side’s room. As he crossed the threshold, the gears of his mind immediately whirred at top speed.

“Well,” He picked up a paper. “This is intriguing. Perhaps we could build off of this idea…”

With a grateful smile, Roman took the paper and began weaving an idea as Logan wrote all the different parts of the plan.

By the time Logan went back to his room that night, there was only one, neatly organized paper left in his room. He gave a tired smile and put it on his desk to look at in the morning.


	3. Back Of His Mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To have something in the back of your mind
> 
> (idiomatic) something that worries you (or is always in your mind) but you don't spend time thinking about it (or try not to think about it)

Logan woke up, glancing at the paper still on his desk. He opened his closet, and instead of seeing his normal, everyday clothes hung up in perfect, neat order, there was a mountain of crumpled papers that came crashing down on top of him. Logan sighed, knowing the paper on his desk would have to wait until later.

He reached his hand into the pile, wincing as a few papers agitated his paper cuts, and pulled out a paper at random.

It was filled with words. Some words were written over each other, and it was all written in small, purple print.

_“Whatifmyfriendssecretlyallhatemeandtheyrejusthumoringmeand-”_

Logan had read enough to know exactly who to go to. Knowing that Virgil didn't like unannounced visitors, he knocked on the purple door.

“Come in,” Virgil’s voice called. He was never awake this early, and Logan guessed that he hadn't actually slept at all. Logan opened the door and walked in to see Virgil wrapped in blankets on his bed, listening to something through his headphones. He paused the music when he saw Logan, and scoffed. “Still in your pjs, teach?” Logan ignored the comment, and handed Virgil the paper he'd taken from his closet.

“Look familiar?” Virgil's face went pale, but he tried not to show his trembling hands as he shoved the paper back at Logan.

“Just some of Thomas’ anxieties. Nothing new. I'll deal with it.”

“Virgil. There were over a hundred of these stuffed in my closet.” Virgil froze. “That's where things end up when they're pushed to the back of the mind.” Logan glanced at the words on the paper again.

 _“Whatifmyfriendssecretlyallhatemeandtheyrejusthumoringmeand_ -”

“I can't help but think that this isn't just Thomas’ worries,” Logan sighed.

“What're you trying to say?” Virgil asked, shifting deeper into his blankets.

“Virgil...I believe some of your own fears are seeping into Thomas’ subconscious.” Virgil didn't respond, but he didn't deny it. Logan's voice went uncharacteristically soft. “You know we care about you, right?”

“Well, I guess so, but-”

“No but.” Logan sat down on the bed beside him. “Think about it logically. If I didn't care about you, why would I be here working through this with you? If Patton didn't care about you…” Logan took a deep inhale through his nose and smiled. Virgil followed suit, and contentment settled across his face. “If Patton didn't care about you, we wouldn't be smelling him making pancakes for all of us.” Virgil smiled up at Logan. Then, he noticed Logan's arms.

“What're those cuts?” They didn't look deep enough to be self-inflicted, but Virgil's mind was already thinking the worst.

“Just paper cuts. Don't worry about it,” Logan reassured him. Then, he stood up, and Virgil couldn't help but miss the weight on his bed. “I'm going to go get dressed. You should too. Wouldn't want to miss those wonderful smelling pancakes.” Virgil nodded, watching Logan walk out of the door.

Back in his room, most of the pile of papers had disappeared, and Logan was able to easily grab his shirt and pants. Then, he saw a tiny ball of paper appear in the back corner of his closet. He pulled it out and saw the familiar purple writing.

_“I hope Logan’s alright.”_

Logan let out a small sigh, and inwardly chided himself when he noticed a tear starting to slip from his eye.


	4. A Mind Like A Sieve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To have a mind like a sieve
> 
> The tendancy to be exceptionally forgetful or absent minded; a poor memory

Later that day, as Logan was organizing the video ideas he’d helped Roman with, there was a quiet knock at his door. In fact, he thought he'd imagined the sound until it came again, even quieter. Logan opened the door to see Virgil, not looking very good. Virgil took a deep breath and then spoke, the words gushing from his mouth almost too fast for Logan to comprehend.

“I'm really sorry to bother you but now I know how my worries affect your room and I'd feel bad doing that again and your room usually calms me down and I guess what I'm saying is...can I stay here? Just for a few minutes, and I'll stay out of your hair.”

“Of course,” Logan said. Logan let Virgil into his room, watching his tension seem to ease after only a moment. “Do you...need me too do anything?”

“No, your room just helps. You can go back to working or whatever,” Virgil said, lying on Logan's bed. Logan nodded, still making sure to keep an eye on Virgil. Soon, Logan's pen and Virgil's breathing had aligned into a perfect rhythm. Logan made sure Virgil didn't start to act unusually. He would never admit it, but too much logic could definitely be a bad thing.

“Hey, Logan?” Virgil's voice was calm and collected, which gave Logan some small relief. Logan looked up from his work. “What's that?” Virgil was pointing at the ground, at a small ball of paper.

“Just a thought,” Logan said. “Nothing to worry about.” Virgil nodded, leaning back in the bed. A little while later, Virgil's voice came again.

“What's that?” He was pointing upwards, at Logan's ceiling. Logan knew what he'd see before he even looked up. A small paper plane drifted lazily across his room and out of the window.

Before answering, Logan glanced at Virgil. He was sitting with uncharacteristically good posture, his movements sharp and precise. Anxiety mixed with logic gave birth to a new side of Virgil. A curious side.

“Another type of thought,” Logan said quickly. “Are you feeling better?”

“Yeah, I am,” Virgil replied, not moving. “You writing in red pen?”

“Yes, color allows the brain to more easily remember things,” Logan said, distracted. He'd never seen the extent of his room’s affect, (no one had ever wanted to stay long enough for that to happen) but he certainly didn't want to find out. He needed to get Virgil out without hurting Virgil's feelings or making him think he was unwanted.

Virgil's voice cut through his thoughts.

“What's happening now?” Logan looked at him in confusion before following Virgil's gaze to the floor. A small hole with a netlike covering had opened up, almost like a sieve set in the floor of his room. The papers seemed drawn to it as they started rolling across the carpet towards it.

Smaller ones started slipping through the holes, and Logan watched in a mixture of fascination and fear as the thoughts, one by one, left the room.

“Oh, that's common,” Logan assured Virgil. It most certainly was not. “A way of processing thoughts.” Virgil nodded. Logan could've sworn he'd seen a flash of yellow and black in the corner of his room, but he did the best to ignore it.

“Thanks for letting me stay in your room,” Virgil said, and Logan breathed a sigh of relief as Virgil stood. “Guess I'd better get to work on my own stuff.” Logan chuckled to himself, knowing Virgil's newfound drive to do work would not last outside of the logical side’s room. Virgil gave Logan a mock salute before sinking out.

Logan watched the last of the thoughts slip through the sieve. He quickly took out a journal, and started writing what had happened. He was less than a minute into his journaling when a figure appeared, casting a shadow over the pages. Logan looked up, startled, but rolled his eyes at the side.

“How long have you been here?” Deceit shrugged. “Well, no matter. You've overstayed your welcome. I think you should-”

“Can't believe you lied to Virgil like that,” Deceit interrupted him. “You're usually so considerate of the others’ feelings.”

Logan tried not to think about the implication of those words coming from Deceit’s mouth. He didn't acknowledge what Deceit had said, instead asking, “Do you know what happened?”

He didn't have to specify. Deceit’s eyes drifted to the spot on the floor where the sieve had been. Something shone in his eyes, and with a grin, he shrugged. Logan groaned as Deceit sank out.

A thought dropped from the ceiling, and Logan made sure to immediately categorize it. He couldn't let Thomas lose any more information.

He continued journaling, writing down theories and facts. The more Logan thought about how he'd let so many thoughts vanish, the more his hands shook. His computer-like handwriting turned into a messy scrawl, and his hands and arms became littered with splashes of red ink.

When Logan tried to sleep that night, he couldn't keep his eyes closed for too long. Instead he'd sit up and scan the room for any stray thoughts. The sieve didn't make another appearance, but Logan was still incredibly wary.

 


	5. Birdbrained

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> bird·brain  
> ˈbərdˌbrān
> 
> noun (informal)
> 
> an annoyingly stupid person; one who lacks intelligence

When the sun shone through his windows, Logan was still awake, and he was incredibly tired. His morning routine seemed to take twice as long as usual.

When he trudged down the stairs, he made a beeline for the coffee, not even bothering to talk to the other sides.

Patton, ever caring, noticed immediately.

“You seem a little tired there, Lo,” he said. Worry was seeping through his usually chipper tone.

“Just a late night,” Logan said. He could almost hear Deceit’s condescending laughter, but he reminded himself that he was technically telling the truth. Still, the phrase ‘a lie of omission’ stuck in his head.

“You've got to stop having so many late nights,” Patton sighed, putting waffles on a plate and handing it to Logan. Logan took it, and instead of heading for the table, he walked up the stairs.

“Where are you going?” Roman called out to him.

Logan mumbled something about still having work to do, and he took the waffles to his room.

They tasted amazing, as always, and part of him wanted to be enjoying breakfast with the others. But a thought fell from the ceiling, reminding Logan why he needed to stay in the room. He categorized it immediately. Logan shot a triumphant look towards the spot in the floor where the sieve had been, and then rolled his eyes at himself for doing something so childish.

Logan stayed in his room on constant alert all day. There was a steady stream of thoughts, and he didn't leave for lunch. Technically, he didn't need it, he reminded himself.

Another thought fell from the ceiling, and Logan, reacting on instinct, held his hand out to catch it. Before it landed in his hand, however, there was a fluttering noise and a quiet peep. Looking up, Logan saw a small, plain brown bird. It grabbed the thought in its beak and tossed it out of the window before landing proudly on Logan's outstretched hand.

Logan stared at the creature incredulously. He did not have time for this.

Annoyed, he marched up to Roman's room, and rose up in it without a warning.

“Woah! Logan, what are you-”

“Daydreams are all fine and well, Roman, but I would appreciate if you kept your creations out of my room,” Logan huffed, showing him the tiny bird.

“That's cute, but it's not mine.” Roman turned back to the video he was watching.

“What do you mean? You're the only one who would make a bird in the mindscape,” Logan said, his voice loud and firey.

“Cool it,” Roman said, starting to get worried. “I don't know whose it is, but I didn't make it. I'd never make something so boring.” Then, turning to the bird, he added, “No offense.” The bird fluttered its wings in response.

“Well, can you take it? Put it in some imaginary forest?” Roman sighed, and with a dramatic hand motion, he revealed a beautiful green meadow.

“I wouldn't be doing this if I didn't care, you know,” he said, reaching for the bird. “Come now, little-” The bird squawked angrily, flying up to Logan's shoulder, leaving claw marks on Logan's arm. Roman drew back. “If I didn't know better, I'd say your bird is glaring at me.”

“It's not my bird,” Logan groaned.

“Well, it certainly likes you. That little guy is not leaving your side. Don't think you'll be rid of him any time soon.”

“I can't just have him in my room snatching up thoughts!”

“Sorry, Logan, but he's not going anywhere.” Logan slumped, defeated. “He seems chill around you though, I'm sure he won't interrupt you too much,” Roman said, trying to offer some sort of comfort.

“He's already interrupted my work,” Logan pointed out.

“I don't think he'll interrupt your sleep. And that is what you need right now anyway,” Roman said, his voice caring. Logan tried to argue, but his words came out as a yawn. “Go take a nap, Sleeping Dorky.”

“That wasn't your best,” Logan scoffed.

“Wasn't my worst either. Now _go,”_ Roman insisted. Dejected, Logan sank out of the room, bird still on his shoulder.

As he climbed into his bed, he noticed a thought start to fall. Before he could even reach for it, the bird grabbed it with a tiny talon, and tossed it out of the window. Groaning, Logan closed his eyes and tried to sleep.


	6. Mind-Numbing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> mind-numbing
> 
> adjective
> 
> relentlessly tedious, dull, or boring

  
Logan begrudgingly admitted that he did feel better after his nap. Still, when he opened his eyes, the bird happily flew to his shoulder, chirping and pruning its wings. Logan tried his best to ignore it.

  
He felt himself being summoned, and rubbed his temples, trying to clear the sleep from his brain, as he rose up in Thomas’ living room.

There was a small, delighted gasp from Patton.

“Logan! You’ve got a friend!” Sure enough, the bird had travelled with him from the mindscape. Roman chuckled.

“Is he just...gonna stay there, or…” Thomas raised an eyebrow at the bird, who squawked angrily at him. “Guess that answers that...anyway, Logan,” he said, pointing at the side. “I called you all up here because I’ve been having trouble remembering things lately. Anyone got any ideas as to why?”

Virgil remembered the sieve in the floor of Logan’s room. Roman glanced at the bird on Logan’s shoulder. They both looked at Logan, awaiting his response. Logan looked at both of them, almost begging them not to say a word.

“That sounds like something on my end, Thomas,” he said. “I’ll look into it, though nothing unusual has occurred as of late.”

“Except for the bird,” Virgil pointed out, electing not to say anything about the sieve.

“Yes, except for that,” Logan admitted through gritted teeth. “If that’s all, I really should get back to work-”

“You’ve been working a lot lately,” Patton said softly.

“Apparently, it’s still not enough,” Logan replied, gesturing to Thomas before he sank out.

Back in his room, the bird flew to the top of his bookshelf, electing to perch and watch Logan.

“Oh, so now you leave me? I bet you’re part of this whole forgetting thing! You and those stupid thoughts to threw out of the window…” Logan sighed, deflating, as he realized he was yelling at a bird.

He sat at his desk, trying to find a way to keep the thoughts in his room. Logan tried closing the windows, but they wouldn’t budge. He needed practice, he needed a consistent source of new information- then he had it.

Logan let himself see through Thomas’ eyes, and he saw the television screen as Thomas opened Netflix. Before Thomas could search for The Office, Logan took control, browsing Netflix’s extensive list of documentaries before finally selecting one of the longest he could find.

Just before it started, two figures rose up in Logan’s room.

“What was that for?” Roman frowned at Logan, crossing his arms.

“Yeah, Logan, Thomas always watches Netflix before bed,” Patton said.

“He’s still watching Netflix,” Logan pointed out.

“We want him to watch something interesting,” Roman sighed. “Not this mind-numbing three hour documentary about god knows what!”

“You get to chose every night! Can’t I just have this one,” pleaded Logan. Roman rolled his eyes and shrugged, sinking out of the room.

“Don’t forget to get some sleep,” Patton said quietly as he left.

Logan brushed off their comments as the thoughts started to pour into his room. Paper planes, balls of paper bouncing everywhere, the bird swooping down, the sieve appearing in his floor...Logan took a deep breath, then he started to work, ignoring the tired haze that started to cloud his mind.

Logan learned how to distract the bird with paper balls he made and then tossed out of the window. He learned how to stay on his feet and kick the balls away from the sieve. He ignored the planes. Logan catalogued every thought that came through his room. It didn't matter that Thomas would probably never need this information, it was giving Logan practice. It didn't matter that the information was, admittedly, incredibly boring, it was making Logan better.

That was, until the cold started to set in.

Logan felt it first in his fingertips as they couldn’t quite grasp the paper balls as well as before. Then it spread to his legs, and they started to shake, letting thoughts slip down the sieve. Finally, he succumbed to the cold and the exhaustion mounting inside of him. Logan collapsed into his bed, feeling defeated, as the thoughts just continued to fall.

As he drifted to sleep, Logan noticed a stinging on his arm.

“Papercuts,” he mused.


	7. A Mind As Sharp As A Steel Trap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To have a mind as sharp as a steel trap
> 
> (idiomatic) to have a remarkably efficient mind; to be able to remember most things easily

Logan woke up. He got dressed. He brushed his teeth. He got to work. It was shaping up to be a blissfully normal day.

“Hello!”

Logan turned to see his unexpected visitor, and then groaned.

“Get out of here, Deceit,” Logan snapped.

“Touchy,” Deceit said, smirking and looking around Logan's room. Paper was littered everywhere, some from his journals and some leftover thoughts. “You good?” Logan opened his mouth to lie, but thought better of it and just went back to work. “You don't know what's happening, do you?”

“I don't know what you're talking about,” Logan sighed, putting down his pen. Deceit laughed.

“Little genius Logan's falling apart because he's finally found a riddle he can't crack.” Logan looked at Deceit, trying to decipher which part of the sentence was meant as a lie. “Birdbrain,” Deceit mumbled under his breath. Logan froze.

“What did you say?”

“What did you forget already? God, almost like you've got a mind like a sieve, isn't it?”

“You know what's happening,” Logan growled.

“Of course I don't,” Deceit protested, a sly grin pulling at his lips. “Is what I'm saying just flying over your head?”

The planes, the sieve, the bird, it was starting to make sense.

“Physical representations of metaphorical concepts,” Logan murmured.

“Can't believe I figured it out first,” Deceit chuckled. Logan's skin crawled as he realized what Deceit really meant.

“How do I stop it?” Deceit looked as if he was about to reply, but then just grinned and shrugged, sinking out of Logan's room, leaving Logan alone with his thoughts and the bird. He wasn't alone for long, as Patton rose up into his room only a minute later.

“Ready for the movie marathon after lunch?” Patton was practically glowing with excitement, and Logan racked his brain, trying to remember what he was talking about. Patton's face fell. “You don't remember? That's weird, you've usually got a mind like a steel trap,” Patton giggled, though he still looked concerned.

A light bulb flickered on in Logan's mind.

“Patton, I…” Patton's face fell. He knew what was coming. “I'm really sorry, you know I am,” Logan insisted, hating seeing the hurt inn Patton's eyes.

“It’s fine,” Patton said, plastering on a fake grin. As he sank out, he mumbled under his breath, “shouldn't have expected you to come anyway.” Logan's jaw dropped slightly at the painfully brutal honesty, but he had to admit that Patton was right. Shoving the emotion down in his stomach, he got to work.

Plans, diagrams, sketches, prototypes, Logan was hunched over his desk for hours. If he got this right, it could solve all his problems. Summoning items was harder for him than the others, but he managed to get the right materials. He put them together, grinning proudly at his finished product.

“Fight fire with fire,” he said, setting it up and waiting for the next thought to drop into his room.

Fire with fire, convoluted idiom with convoluted idiom.

Logan didn't have to wait to long, as Thomas was having a conversation with his friend, so he took in new information constantly. As the thought fell, he stepped back, begging that his contraption would work.

A steel trap.

Perhaps Roman would call it extra, but Logan deemed it necassary. It didn't move, however, didn't go after the thought, didn't trap it. Logan rubbed his temples in annoyance before realizing he had bigger problems on his hands.

The thought was tumbling towards the sieve in his floor, and he noticed that the writing was in dark blue, glittery, gel pen. That meant Talyn had told Thomas something. Logan had a feeling it was something important.

Logan lunged for it, trying to rescue it, but the thought slipped through his fingers and through the sieve into the dark abyss below.

Logan, dejected and tired, just laid on the floor. He reminded himself that he'd been losing quite a few thoughts recently, and none of them seemed to be affecting Thomas too badly. He would be fine. It would all be fine.


	8. Brain Fade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> brain fade
> 
> (idiomatic) a short time when someone cannot thing clearly, or cannot remember something

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warning: blood

It was eight o’clock at night when Logan was proven wrong. Thomas had summoned the sides, saying that he wanted to talk about the memory issue again, when his phone rang.

Virgil immediately tensed, but relaxed slightly when he saw that it was Talyn calling. Thomas answered. The smile on his face didn't last long.

“Where the hell were you?!” Everyone froze. “Valerie had a concert tonight, you were supposed to sing a duet with her, and you just decided not to come?” Virgil was tense, almost shaking, and yet Logan was worse.

He felt like tearing out his hair, like screaming and sobbing because this was all his fault, it was because of him-!

But Logan stayed silent, just staring at the ground.

Thomas, ignoring Deceit’s tempting pull, just mumbled,

“I'm completely forgot… It must've slipped my mind.” God, how Logan was learning to despise idioms.

“We've been telling you about this for days! You said you could learn it in time! I reminded you this morning!”

“I'm so sorry…”

“I'm not the one you should be apologizing to,” Talyn said, their voice becoming a little less angry. “I'm worried for you, but you can't let your friends down like this."

“I know Talyn… I'll call her now. Goodbye,” Thomas said, hanging up. He looked up at the sides, angry, confused, and worried. “What happened?”

Everyone turned to Logan. Thoughts and memories were his job after all. He was silent.

“Logan, I can't believe you'd do this! You threw away an opportunity for Thomas to perform!”

“Roman,” Patton sighed, “That's not the important part of this. We let Valerie down.”

“Yeah, and now she’ll hate us, and never talk to us again, and neither will Talyn or Joan or-”

“That won't happen,” Logan said, reassuring the panicked Virgil. “They care about us, one mistake isn't going to destroy that.”

“Are you just not going to speak for yourself, Logan?!” Roman was angry, words flying like fire that burned Logan's chest.

“I'll work. I'll get better,” he insisted, staring at the floor and refusing to meet anyone's gaze.

“You said that before, Logan-”

“And I’ve been working on it, Thomas,” he snarled. Everyone flinched at his outburst. “I'll get back to work,” he said, sinking out and ignoring as the others called out to him.

When he was back in his room, he collapsed to the floor. He needed to be calm to do his job. Logan took out a jar of beautiful marbles designed to look like the planets. He rolled them between his fingers, breathing deeply…

A voice, the voice of a manipulative, slimey side that was really getting on Logan's nerves as of late, swept through his room.

“Don't lose your marbles,” he hissed.

Logan groaned in frustration at the idiom, dropping the marbles onto the floor. The sieve opened up, and in the blink of an eye, they were rolling into it, following the path of the thoughts into the inky darkness.

Fed up, exhausted, and more than a little angry, Logan punched the sieve. It left a red imprint on his hand, but it also dented the mesh. He punched again. He punched until there was a hole that his hand could fit through, and then Logan reached.

When his hand entered the darkness, it seemed to disappear. When he brought it back up, it seemed paler, almost translucent. He ignored it, reaching his hand back through the darkness.

His fingertips brushed a paper ball.

Ignoring how the ends of broken mesh wire sliced into his arm, Logan reached as far as he could, until his entire arm was in the hole. Slowly, he brought up paper after paper, marble after marble. The process was tedious and monotonous. His arms were shaking, bleeding. Some of the red blood was dripping onto the thoughts. The blood masked the fact that his arms were as white as the paper that the thoughts were written on. The haze in his eyes masked the fact that all of his skin was turning that paper white color.

He heard Patton's voice through the haze clouding his mind, and he remembered that he hadn't locked his door. It was already too late, as Patton barged in, saying something that Logan couldn't quite hear. Patton's voice seemed to grow quiet, and then he said a single sentence, as clear as day. His voice was quiet and scared.

“Logan…you're fading.”


	9. His Mind Goes Blank

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> to have a blank mind
> 
> (idiomatic) to fail to recall a memory; to be unable to think of something

Logan looked down to see that Patton was right. His dark shirt and bright blue tie were in stark contrast to his white skin. When he held his hand in front of his face, he could see through it.

Patton, frozen with worry, summoned Virgil and Roman. Virgil wasn't much help, as he was just as afraid as Patton.

“Look at his arms,” Virgil said hoarsely.

“Look at the walls,” Roman gasped. Sure enough, the entire room was growing pale and transparent. Even the small brown bird was barely visible. Logan's clothes started to lose their color. “Logan, what do we do?” There was panic hiding beneath the surface of Roman's voice.

“I don't know,” Logan said, and saying those words seemed to scare him more than anything ever had. “I...I don't know-” and with that, the room was gone. They stood in an empty white void that Roman seemed all too familiar with.

“This is where I go when I draw a creative blank,” he said. “Logan, we’re in your room, so you must be drawing a blank.”

“Can his room still affect us?” Patton's voice was timid, and his eyes were still glued on Logan.

“Since you're asking that...logical question, I'm going to assume that it is already,” Roman said. Logan nodded. “Logan, you just need to think of your room. You're the only one who can pull us back there.”

“Roman, I can't.” Roman started to protest, but Logan shook his head. “I have trouble summoning scrap metal, there's no way I can summon an entire room from memory.”

“Does it have to be his room?” Virgil asked the question slowly, and Logan was almost proud of how he could see the gears turning in Virgil's head.

“No…” Roman's face started to light up. “Logan, you just need to ground yourself in a room, and then I can help you turn that room into your bedroom. Think of somewhere you feel at home, a classroom, perhaps.”

Logan took a deep breath, and tried. He clenched his fists, thinking about a classroom, desks, a whiteboard…a small wooden desk appeared in front of him before melting into the floor.

“Roman I can't do it-”

“Is there anywhere at else you feel comfortable? At home?” Roman asked. Logan's face seemed to light up for a moment, but he shook his head.

“I have an idea, but it's...it's foolish, it doesn't make any sense, it isn't logical,” he insisted.

“Do it,” Roman said. “I don't want to be in this room any longer than I have to.” Seeing Logan's downcast face, Roman quickly continued. “Not because I don't want to be with you, but because Virgil's growing curiosity is bound to send him down a spiral, Patton's gone this whole conversation without making a pun and that can't be good, and I can feel my creativity leaving my brain.” The last part may have been a touch overdramatic, but Logan seemed to get the picture. He sighed.

“Just...don't judge me,” he said. Logan closed his eyes.

A room started to form around them, and pride swelled in Roman's chest. As the room assembled itself, the color started returning to Logan's form. The four walls were curiously familiar to Roman's own gold and red wallpaper. A messy pile of blankets and pillows started to form in the center of the room.

“Is that my bed?” Virgil asked.

There was a desk covered in papers that were covered in Patton's sloppy scrawl, Roman's fancy lettering, and Virgil's tiny print. A bookshelf filled with emo CDs, little photos of animals, and fairytale books. Golden star decorations on the wall in the corner of the room.

“What's that smell?” Patton asked, started to smile at the delicious scent.

Sitting on the ornate gold and white dresser was a large stack of pancakes, made with the smiley face pattern Patton always made sure to add. Logan opened his eyes, seemingly relieved that it had worked.

The room was stable, and, almost as if it was proving that it really was Logan's room, a paper plane soared through the air and out of his window.


	10. [Title Redacted]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [definition redacted]
> 
> no more complicated idioms, no more head aching metaphors. 
> 
> just the truth. just warmth. just comfort.

A tiny brown feather floated into Logan's hand, but the bird was nowhere in sight. Deceit appeared from the shadows.

“Featherbrain,” he teased.

“Shut up, Deceit,” Roman growled. “Some birds eat snakes, you know,” Roman said, smiling as Deceit sank out, looking more than a little afraid.

“Logan…” Patton said in awe as he looked around the room. “I-”

“Save the mushy feelings until we leave,” Logan said. “I think we should get out of here, my room is clearly taking hold. Roman just stated a correct fact about nature, and I am immensely uncomfortable with that.” Patton giggled a bit, and the four of them walked out of the room, breathing a sigh of relief as they crossed the threshold.

“You don't know that your room was the reason I said that,” Roman said indignantly. “Maybe I'm just smart.” Logan raised a doubtful eyebrow, and Roman clutched his chest in mock offense.

“Logan,” Patton said, practically glowing with emotion, “the place you felt at home was…”

“We don't have to dwell on it,” Logan said, his face turning red. They walked into the common room, relaxing on the sofa together. Logan realized it had been a while since he'd sat on the couch with the others. It was nice.

Roman summoned bandages and gauze. Logan pulled away, insisting that his injuries weren't that bad, but he winced at the pain of his arm brushing against his shirt, and begrudgingly let Roman bandage his arms as they talked.

“Well, your strategy of fending for yourself was clearly not working, so I'm making a royal decree,” Roman announced. Logan and Virgil looked at each other, rolling their eyes. “I decree that from this day forth…” Roman's voice was gentler than before. “We will all help you. And force you to take breaks with us.”

“Does that mean Disney movie marathons?”

“You know it!” Patton giggled at Logan's frustrated groans.

“So...was all of that just really weird metaphors coming alive or whatever?” Virgil frowned.

“The correct term would be idioms, but yes.”

“Bird-brained, a mind like a sieve…” Patton mused.

“Brainstorming,” Roman added.

“The paper planes?” Virgil turned to Logan, who sighed.

“Those represented the…the things that...go over my head.” Virgil laughed, and the others looked surprised.

“No offense Logan, but you do not need to be so stressed about those.” Logan started to get defensive, but Virgil continued. “You were reading Shakespeare as an elementary schooler. You read the entire dictionary three times just because you could. I once saw you name every constellation in the sky. So the two percent of information that somehow manages to go over your head probably isn't even that important anyway.” Logan blushed at the praise, trying to mumble out a thank you. “Actually, I’ve got a theory...”

“Oh god, you're rubbing off on him,” Roman stage whispered at Logan, who playfully elbowed him.

Virgil laughed and waved a hand, summoning Deceit.

“Simply lovely to be here,” Deceit sighed.

“You wouldn't happen to know anything about Logan's recent weirdness, would you?” Deceit just shrugged off Virgil's question. “Answer me,” Virgil said, getting annoyed.

“I don't know what you're talking about,” Deceit insisted. With that, Virgil reached a foot forward and kicked Deceit’s cape. An entire fleet of paper planes came tumbling out of his pockets. “Those aren't mine,” Deceit said, quickly picking them all up and fleeing the room.

“So he was just doing that all to mess with us!” Patton frowned, genuinely hurt. “I can't believe it!”

“I can,” the other three said in unison.

“What about the sieve, the bird, it couldn't all be Deceit’s work,” Logan said with a frown. "And those planes have been around forever, some of them were real."

“Maybe Deceit’s fake planes were the starting point, and because you were going downhill already, the mindscape created everything else," Virgil offered.

“It doesn't matter,” Roman began, pulling the final bandage tight and holding Logan's shoulder, “because even if they come back, we’ll all help you deal with it.”

A comfortable, warm contentment settled over the four of them. Logan wanted to complain about the highly emotional nature of his situation, but he couldn't bring himself to pop the bubble of comfort he was in.

“Well, this just proves that Logan really is a genius!” Patton smiled at them, standing up and walking towards the kitchen. “I'll make some cookies for our smart cookie,” Patton laughed at Logan's annoyed groans.

“I'll help,” Virgil said, following him.

“Logan, if you want, I can go and help you change your room back now,” Roman offered.

“No, it's fine. I don't mind it being the way it is for now.” Roman gave a jokingly overdramatic gasp.

“You are sentimental!”

“I've changed my mind, I want everything of yours out of that room,” Logan said, deadpan. Roman laughed.

“No can do!”

Logan, as much as he hated to admit it, was looking forward to the next movie marathon night. He wouldn't miss it for the world.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God I love writing their dumb interactions these are some dumb fluffy goof boys.
> 
> I hope you all liked the story!
> 
> My tumblr is @galacticallynonbinary if you want to check me out there!


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